Home
by not a zatarc
Summary: Alternate Reality. Victor Creed's son has come home to stay with his abusive father since his mother's in jail again. The boy would obviously rather be anywhere else. finished Please Review!


Disclaimer: I will never own the X-Men, sadly, but Trevor is mine.  
  
Summary: Victor Creed's son has come home to stay with his father, but the boy has other ideas.  
  
Note: I decided to take a quick break from writing my other fic and try something new. I've never done something like this before (a fic without Logan...lol) so bear with me. This fic features Sabretooth's son, an OC I created. This is really short so please read and review! Me an' my Logan-muse will be very happy...although he is upset this hasta do with Sabretooth...heh x_0; He'll get over it. Enjoy!  
  
2nd Note: Oops...almost forgot...well ok, so I did forget...heh. Um..the song is 'Home' by Three Days Grace.   
  
Home  
  
*****  
  
I'll be coming home  
  
just to be alone  
  
cause I know you're not there  
  
and I know that you don't care  
  
I can hardly wait to leave this place  
  
*****  
  
Trevor Creed angrily stomped up the stairs to his father's apartment building. He had been sent to live with his father for awhile after his mother had been arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct...again. He hated his mom for how she acted, and how she treated him, and it was worse with his dad. Trevor hardly ever saw his dad, and that was his own choice. He had just taken a taxi to his father's building, and now he was dragging his old raggedy duffle bag up the steps.   
  
At the age of 17, Trevor was 6 feet, 3 inches tall. He was a tall kid, well muscled too. Those attributes obviously came from his father, who was a giant himself. That's what he secretly called him anyways. The giant, the beast, the neanderthal. And those were the nicer terms he used.  
  
The boy roughly threw the door open and trudged inside, his face directed to the floor and his long, shabby, dirty blonde hair falling into his eyes. He could see his dad on the dirty old couch, the television remote dangling loosely from his hand that fell over the arm off the couch. Trevor was hoping to pass him without any words between them, but that wasn't likely to happen.  
  
*****  
  
No matter how hard I try   
  
you're never satisfied  
  
this is not a home  
  
i think I'm better off alone  
  
you always disappear  
  
even when you're here  
  
this is not my home  
  
I think I'm better off alone  
  
home, this house is not a home  
  
*****  
  
Victor Creed cocked his head to the side, still staring at the television. He cleared his throat roughly and called out, "Hey son, get me a beer!"  
  
Trevor sighed inwardly. His upper lipper curled into a snarl as he dropped his bag to the floor in the hallway and headed into the tiny kitchen. "Don't call me son." he muttered angrily under his breath.  
  
"What's a'matter sonny-boy? Yur my kid ain'tcha?" Victor growled, glaring at the teenager.   
  
Trevor let out a long breath, grumbling, "Unfortunately.", as he grabbed a beer bottle from the door of the refrigerator. He stomped back into the other room, his jaw clenched so that he wouldn't say anything stupid and get smacked again. His so-called 'father' had the tendency to do that when he was drunk, and sometimes even if he wasn't. Sometimes just because he was bored. Trevor tossed Victor the beer, then absently rubbed his upper right arm, remember when his father had broken it one time.  
  
*****  
  
By the time you come home  
  
I'm already stoned  
  
you turn off the TV  
  
and you scream at me  
  
I can hardly wait  
  
'til you get off my case  
  
*****  
  
Trevor had been 15 years old then, and had been living with Victor for a whole month at that time. He had stomped out of the apartment late that night and went out drinking with a few friends. They ended up getting thrown out of some bars, then they hit a big party. Trevor had gotten high with his friends just before heading home. He was so sick of his life, he wanted to forget it all. He thought partying all night, drinking, and smoking would fix everything for him, but he was dead wrong.  
  
Trevor remembered stumbling up the stairs, and using his key to open the door. His dad was nearly passed out drunk on the sofa, with atleast a dozen empty beer bottles on the floor around the couch and television. Just as he started slipping past to get to his room, Victor had woken up, screamed in a drunken rage at his son who could never do anything right, then he hit him a few times.  
  
The first blow came as a shock, knocking Trevor off his feet and causing his lip to swell and his jaw to ache. The boy grunted, then wiped the blood from his face and got to his feet. At that moment he couldn't care less if his father killed him or not. He was going to fight back, and fight back hard. Trevor got in one good blow to his dad's nose as the man almost stumbled over dead-drunk. The next thing he remembered was seeing a pair of massive arms grab him and slam him into the wall. After that he had woken up in a hospital with a broken arm.  
  
*****  
  
Trevor shook his head to get rid of the memories. He wanted to slam his fist into the wall right then, but forced himself to push down the urge. He slipped into the hallway, grabbing his duffle bag again.  
  
Just as Trevor was about to turn into his room, he stopped and thought about something. He realized he couldn't live there anymore, not with his dad, ever again. He couldn't even go back to his mom. Trevor could only reason that he was better off alone.  
  
With a scowl on his face and his bag in hand, Trevor slipped out the door, not even being seen by his life long tormentor. He vowed that he would never go back, no matter what. It's not like anyone really cared, he was just a burden to be tossed between biological parents that never wanted him anyway. Trevor clenched his fists, tightening the grip on his duffel bag. A tear stung his cheek, and he wiped it away quickly, then without even a last glance at his father, he walked out the door.  
  
*****  
  
This house is not a home  
  
I'm better off alone  
  
*****The End***** 


End file.
